Those who are forced into being without an abode and/or dwelling are all to quickly deemed less than citizens. In many regards are even treated as less than human. How about thinking that we are NOT homeless, nor last-class citizens or non-human? We think, have feelings, have intellect and struggle. How would you feel to be thought of as anything less than human just for circumstances due to those of profit/gain/control?

Homeless fall between the cracks — even in death

"Houseless", not homeless!

You know in reality, or at least in this developed reality, why should you even have compassion for "have not" humans.
Is it that "The Houseless" have problems which you do not want to be associated with?
Is it that you do not have time for "The Houseless"?
Is it that you do not seeing those of "The Houseless" existence affecting your life?
Or is it that you are truly in support of the profit/gain/control community?

There is a human under the blanket. Even within 2 blocks from the White House, a human rest who is Houseless. Let us all work together to stop this sort of abuse.

Santos Martel was struck by a train one day and later died. He was a fun man with children. Yes, he was a drinker of alcohol, but to hear others say he was abusive, this was just not the norm.

Courtesy of Francis Mariani: Authur Louttit was a budding musician when he was
photographed in 2008. His body was found three weeks ago at Sunnybrook
Park, when he became another name to add to Toronto's Homeless Memorial.

Six more names will be added to the Toronto Homeless Memorial at Holy Trinity Church on Tuesday — more names than at any of the monthly ceremonies there since May 2007.

Arthur Louttit’s name will be among
them. The 40-year-old musician was found dead Nov. 17 in Sunnybrook
Park, but he came close to disappearing without a sign he ever existed
on the city’s streets.

That’s because the sources that track
homeless deaths in the city don’t define homelessness the same way. The
result is big gaps in data that advocates say is essential to helping
people living on the streets.

Toronto Public Health stopped doing
its biannual count of homeless deaths in 2010 because two groups that
used to collect details, the Toronto Indigent Deaths Enquiries (TIDE)
project and the Toronto Disaster Relief Committee,
had stopped counting. Community agencies and individuals still try to
keep the grim tally, but it’s impossible to know if they have a full
picture.

Those statistics are important, said
Michael Shapcott, director of housing at the Wellesley Institute.
“Without data it is difficult to influence policy and measure the impact
that shelter services and public health programs are having on
Toronto’s homeless community.”

The city’s Hostel Services
department, which still tracks deaths of shelter residents, recorded 12
in the first seven months of the year. As for the rest, a mishmash of
agencies and individuals has kept the count for the Toronto Homeless
Memorial, which will stand at 18 after Tuesday’s ceremony. They may miss
people who haven’t been using shelters or drop-in centres, or who lack
relatives who can confirm their identities.

It’s an informal, “helter-skelter”
process, said Hatlem, who usually hears about a death through his
network of colleagues at shelters and drop-in centres. It can take weeks
to confirm through family members or the coroner’s office.

For the first half of 2012, Hatlem was on parental leave, leaving a possible six-month gap in the memorial’s numbers.

For Toronto’s homeless residents to be remembered in death, the counters must find someone who knew them.

Loutitt left his hometown of Moose
Factory, Ont., in the ’90s hoping for a career in television. Instead,
he served in the military from 2005 to 2008 and then turned to music.
Around Toronto, he was rarely seen without his guitar. He loved Johnny
Cash.

His mother, Judy Reuben, said she
will remember her son by his native name, Kayashiwabid. Regardless of
whether Loutitt was employed or not, “Arthur always carried himself with
confidence,” Reuben said.

Louttit had recently told his mother
he was eligible for veterans’ housing and was looking forward to
planning a new home for his 10-year-old son, who lives in Aylmer, Que.

Reuben spoke to her son for the last
time Sept. 24. Later that night he was taken by ambulance to Sunnybrook
hospital after suffering a seizure and smashing his head on a concrete
windowsill.

Although no one knows for sure what happened, Louttit’s
friends told Hatlem that because of his fear of hospitals, he jumped
from the gurney and disappeared. In any case, Louttit left before seeing
a doctor.

His mother reported him missing on
Sept. 29 and made two trips to Toronto from Moose Factory to scour the
city for him. “I walked the streets and looked everywhere,” she said.
“All day, from morning to night.”

On Nov. 17, two women out walking their dogs discovered Louttit’s body in Sunnybrook Park.

Louttit had recorded four songs for
an album he was working on. At the memorial service Sanctuary Ministries
held on Dec. 5, his song “Soldier in the Sun,” about hellos and
goodbyes, was played.

Fourteen people attended, including some friends.
They sprinkled tobacco beside his photograph, on a table draped in white
linen where a single purple candle burned.

Louttit was buried Nov. 30 in Moose Factory. His name joins 680 others on the memorial who have died since 1985.